“I know.”

“Joyce!” Romeo cried. “Joyce!”

Cindy walked over to the cage. “He misses her.” She stuck her fingers through the bars to pet the parrot. Romeo quickly bent over and tried to bite her. Cindy yanked her hand back, inadvertently opening the cage door. The parrot grabbed his chance for freedom and flew the coop.

“Hello!” he cried as he sailed past Regan, heading for the living room. “Pretty girl!”

I like that bird, Regan thought as she followed Cindy into the living room. Romeo was having a grand time, flapping his wings and circling the room.

“Come on, Romeo!” Cindy cried. “Come on.”

He swooped down onto the floor behind the couch where Marco’s belongings had been piling up for the last couple of months. Cindy kneeled on the couch, bent over, and grabbed the energetic bird. Something shiny was hanging from his beak. Still bent over, she pulled the metal object out and tossed it back onto one of Marco’s bags. Straightening up, she turned to Regan who was looking around the room. “I’ll get him back in his cage.”

“Okay. I’ll head outside.”

Cindy couldn’t have possibly guessed that the object she tossed aside so casually was actually something quite significant.

Alfred’s keys.

As Jack, Regan, and Kit drove back into Manhattan, the light of the new day was starting to make its appearance. Streaks of red and blue filled the sky.

“I’d love to grab a steak at Elaine’s, but by now even they’ve rolled up the carpet,” Regan said, referring to Elaine Kaufman’s legendary restaurant on the Upper East Side that had been open until four in the morning for the last forty years. “I suppose it will be good to get a couple of hours sleep before going on national television.”

“What are you going to wear?” Kit asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to see what I have in the closet at my parents’ apartment,” Regan answered. “It’s hard to believe that when we started this day we thought we’d be asleep in bed in New Jersey right now.”

“You called your mother to tell her about the show, didn’t you?” asked Jack.

“Yes. She’d love for us to drive out there tomorrow for brunch. Obviously she doesn’t know about the missing Joyce yet.”

Jack sighed. “We’ll have to see what develops.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll watch the show from the comfort of bed,” Kit said.

“I don’t blame you,” Regan answered. They were now driving along Central Park South toward the Reillys’ apartment building. “It seems to me that there’s no quieter time in Manhattan than Sunday morning at dawn.”

“The crowds have gone home,” Jack said.

“Except for Joyce,” Regan said quietly.

Jack pulled into the driveway. The second the car stopped Kit jumped out of the back. “See you later, Jack,” she said wearily.

“Good night, Kit.” Jack put his arms around Regan and held her close. “I love you, my crazy April Bride,” he said.

“I love you, too.” They kissed, and after a moment Regan turned to go. Then she turned back and kissed Jack again. “Are we really getting married next Saturday?”

Jack smiled. “That’s the plan.”

“And miles to go before we wed.”

“That’s what it feels like.” Jack looked at her tenderly and smoothed her hair. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon. I can’t wait until we’re on that plane and on our way. Just the two of us…finally.”

“Just the two of us,” Regan said softly. “But first we’re going to have a great time at our wedding with our family and friends. No matter what I end up wearing.”

Jack laughed. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll pick you up at seven forty-five.”

Upstairs Kit was already out cold in Regan’s room. Regan crashed on her parents’ bed. She set the alarm for seven o’clock, closed her eyes, and immediately lost consciousness.

“Francis, wake up!” Marco yelled. “You’ve got to drive. I can’t keep my eyes open.” He pulled into a service area. Marco tugged on Francis’s shoulder. “Wake up!”

Francis blinked his eyes open. He had been hoping this was all a bad dream. It wasn’t. Marco was a mere foot away, and by this time neither one of them was a pretty sight. “Where are we?”

“ Pennsylvania.”

“We haven’t even hit the Midwest yet.”

“We’re making progress.”

“I need caffeine.”

“Go get it. I have to go to the bathroom.”

In the coffee shop, Francis bought a large cup of joe and a couple of jelly donuts. He brought his purchases back to the car. Marco was already asleep in the backseat, drool dripping out of the side of his mouth. Even when he’s sleeping, he looks like he’s up to no good, Francis thought.

A moment later, Francis pulled out onto the highway. Marco’s cell phone was in the well next to the driver’s seat. I’ll call Joyce again in a few hours, he thought. Hopefully, she’s sleeping and when she wakes up she won’t be mad at me.

But deep down he knew that his goose was cooked.

Regan’s alarm went off when it was supposed to. Seven o’clock. Forcing herself to get right out of bed, she headed straight for the shower. The hot water on her shoulders felt so good. She washed her hair and hurried out across the hallway to her bedroom on the other side of the apartment. She tiptoed in. Kit was fast asleep. What a weekend she’s had, Regan thought. I hope she hits it off with one of Jack’s friends at the wedding.

Kit had even joked about inviting Tracy ’s ex. Jeffrey Woodall turned out to be an even bigger jerk than Regan could have imagined. Who was the girl he’d taken up with?

Regan pulled a pair of dark pants, a raspberry-colored cashmere sweater, and black jacket out of the closet. She fished around and found a pair of high-heeled boots.

At seven forty-five, she was combing her hair when the buzzer sounded from downstairs.

Regan answered. “I’ll be right down.”

Jack and Regan drove through the wonderfully quiet streets to the studio of Tiger News on the far west side of Manhattan by the Hudson River. Tiger was a new cable network and they were getting great ratings. Their popular Sunday morning show was a mix of news, entertainment, sports, and chat.

Alfred and Charisse were already in the greenroom drinking coffee and looking fresh as daisies when Regan and Jack arrived.

“Regan, darling!” Alfred exclaimed, giving her a big kiss.

He’s thrilled with all this, Regan thought. I guess any publicity is good publicity. “Are you ready for your close-up?” she asked.

Alfred laughed. “We are indeed. We got here early. They’ve already done Charisse’s makeup and powdered my nose. Oh my. I just have one little thing to tell you.”

Regan paused. “What?”

“I gather you haven’t seen the New York Post this morning?”

“Not yet.”

Alfred picked a copy of the paper off the chair and held it up. WEDDING DRESS BLUES the headline screamed.

Regan took the newspaper from his hands. A picture of Alfred and Charisse staring forlornly at Brianne’s shredded dress took up half the front page with instructions for the reader to turn to Page 3 for the full details. Regan did so. Another headline screamed ROBBERY AT ALFRED AND CHARISSE’S COUTURE SALON TURNS FIVE APRIL BRIDES INTO MODERN DAY CINDERELLAS.

“Cinderellas?” Jack said in a stunned tone.

“She had nothing to wear to the ball,” Regan muttered.

The article began:

You thought Cinderella had problems? Minutes before the Prince’s big ball she was sartorially challenged. Luckily, her fairy godmother showed up with a gorgeous gown that fit perfectly. How would you like to be a bride about to be married in the next few weeks only to discover that the dress of your dreams has been stolen or shredded? Downtown designers Alfred and Charisse were the victims of a brazen robbery at 3:00 A.M. Saturday but insist that they will act as fairy godmothers and make new dresses in time for the following brides’ big day…